Dogs of War
by LysanderTheFistOfDorn
Summary: War. War never changes. Especially for the fabled Lone Wanderer and his friends. Stranded in a strange place, surrounded by hostiles on all sides. A dangerous emissary of Caesar, a Courier hell bent on revenge, and a Wanderer trying to fight a war that's not his. (Changed title and summary; formerly War of Steel)
1. Chapter 1

_"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst forth at once in the sky, that would be like the splendor of the Mighty One...I am become Death, the shatterer of worlds." _–J. Robert Oppenheimer

The Lone Wanderer, a man driven by ruthless ambition and an unwavering sense of right and wrong. Four years have passed since the Enclave was decimated by him, and his allies. Four years since fresh, clean water was made available to the citizens of the Capital Wasteland. The Super Mutant menace was almost wiped out, after the Wanderer infiltrated Vault 87 a second time and detonated the reactor. Without the FEV needed to turn humans into the Super Mutants, their number were dwindling. A government based on the values of the United States was formed, and a legitimate President was elected, Abraham Washington, because he knew the most about the government, and former Presidents.

The Lone Wanderer was flying towards California in a heavily modified Vertibird. A patchy radio transmission had been received from the Lost Hills bunker. Apparently they were under attack by something called the New California Republic. With him was the fourteen year old Arthur Maxson, who had recently been promoted to Knight Initiate. As he was heir to the Brotherhood, it seemed only fitting he should return with the Wanderer to the land of his birth. The Lone Wanderer, or Bruce Williams, sat quietly, trying to get some sleep. The noise and Arthur's questions were preventing that quiet well though.

"So, what happens when we arrive?"

"I don't know, we'll have to assess the situation."

"Will I get to use a weapon?"

"Maybe, we'll see."

"Doesn't that mean no?" Bruce just silently stared at the young man, the steely gaze of his bright green eyes causing Arthur to look down.

"Sorry Arthur, I'm just trying to get some sleep. We've been in this tin can for what? Almost three days?" Arthur nodded. The Scribe manning the radio called back to them.

"We're passing over a Pre-War structure called Hoover Dam now, sir. Our ETA is fifteen hours, and thirty six minutes." Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat. A resounding boom, which sounded loud even over the engines, was heard. The Scribe looked back at them.

"Brace for impact!" A loud shrieking filled the air as the right side of the Vertibird was sheared off. Bruce and Arthur clutched their restraints as the wind tore at them. The Scribe was gone, and the aircraft was making a sickening lurch to the left. The pilot was desperately trying to regain control of the heavily damaged vehicle.

"We're gonna be okay, aren't we Bruce?"

"Sure, kid, but praying won't hurt." The Vertibird continued its crippled flight, finally coming to a rest outside a small, ruined city. By some ungodly miracle they had been able to actually land. The pilot, Avery Johnson, climbed into the back part, and then manually released the back hatch. They all climbed out, noticing a small group of people were standing there. They had uniforms, and guns. Which were pointed at them. A man wearing an OD green beret with a strange bear insignia on stepped forward.

"Who the hell are you people? I just got word on the radio that the guns at the Dam took a potshot at a Vertibird. Why would they want to shoot at you?"

"Sir, let me explain. I am Paladin-Colonel Bruce Williams, of the United States of DC Brotherhood of Steel. We're on a mission to Lost Hills, to aid our brothers."

"Where the hell is the United States of DC?"

"The nation's capital, Washington DC, where else would it be. We're the nation's new government. Who are you people?"

"I'm Lieutenant Monroe, of the New California Republic. If you've come to help your people, I'm afraid you're too late. We're kicking their asses." The three Brotherhood members couldn't help but laugh at that statement.

"You expect men to believe that a primitive nation like yours could beat the Brotherhood? Ha, that's preposterous."

"I don't care what you think it is. For now, you're under arrest. I've already had to deal with one jumped up kid today, I'm not dealing with another." He signaled for some of the troopers to move in. As if on cue, five people came out of a gate that led into the city. One man with a bright orange Mohawk leveled a submachine gun.

"Fuck NCR!" He fired, hitting a trooper in the back. Monroe cursed, and turned to deal with them. Johnson and Arthur leveled their laser rifles at the NCR troops. Bruce coldly observed the small battle, and then he nodded. The two men opened fire, cutting down what few NCR troops that were left. A beam from a laser rifle had taken of Monroe's leg at the knee. The wound had be cauterized by the heat of the beam, so he was in no danger of bleeding out.

"Well, Lieutenant, it seems as if you won't be arresting us after all. I would stay and chat, but I have more pressing matters to attend to, such as fucking the NCR." Monroe laughed.

"Ha, good luck. The NCR is way too powerful for that." He continued laughing, until a cold, predatory smile spread across Bruce's face.

"Know this. I took down the Enclave, with nothing but my own two hands. A little help from my brother didn't hurt. But if you think your jumped up little government is a match for the Enclave, I pity you sir. Alas, now I must kill you. " Bruce drew a N99 10mm pistol from the shoulder holster from under his long, tan trench coat. He looked in the eyes of the man as he pulled the trigger, ending Monroe's life. The pistol went back into the holster, and Bruce turned to look at the people who attacked the NCR. They were all dirty, wearing some type of leather armor. It looked like the kind of stuff a Pre-War motorcycle gang would wear. The leader appeared to be the one with the orange Mohawk. He wore a leather vest, along with what appeared to be leg armor, covering a pair of black pants. A pair of ancient motorcycle boots protected his feet. A band of cloth wrapped around his head, and he had a small mustache and goatee as well.

"Who the hell are you guys?" Bruce knew they looked strange. Arthur wore a cut down version of combat armor to protect his small frame, which had been repainted Brotherhood colors. Johnson wore T-45d power armor, without the helmet, and both of them clutched laser rifles, with laser pistols holstered at their hips. Bruce wore the uniform that Colonel Autumn has once worn. A black uniform under the trench coat that still had "Autumn" stitched into it, along with a homemade shoulder holster housing the 10mm pistol that had also belonged to Autumn. An Enclave officer's cap also sat on his brow. When asked why he wore Enclave stuff, he had replied with 'Say what you want about the Enclave, they had style.'

"I could ask you the same question."

"I asked you first."

"Fine, my name is Paladin-Colonel of the Brotherhood of Steel, based in Washington DC, the nation's capital. This young man's name is Knight Initiate Arthur Maxson, and the other is Knight Avery Johnson, our pilot. Now, who are you?"

"I'm Jessup, leader of these warriors. We are Great Khans. What the fuck is a DC? Are you really with the Brotherhood of Steel?"

"Yes, but first tell me about the Great Khans, are they a gang?"

"Yeah, we used to be one of the most feared gangs in the Wastes, until the fuckin' NCR massacred us a Bitter Springs. Who the fuck guns down kids and old folks, man?" Bruce almost did a double take at that. Well, now he knew how far the NCR would go.

"Well, thanks for helping us with these bastards. You wouldn't happen to know of a place we could rest do you?" Bruce rolled up his left sleeve, uncovering his Pip-Boy 3000. He cycled to the map, which had changed to the Mojave. It said the name of this place was Boulder City.

"About two miles northwest of here is a trading post. I'm gonna warn you though, its run by NCR."

"Well, thanks again. Maybe we'll meet again." Jessup nodded, motioning for his men to follow him. Bruce started walking in the direction Jessup had pointed out to him.

"Why did you let them go, they were raiders."

"Yes, but they helped us. Now we owe 'em one. You gotta learn this stuff kid." Arthur nodded, absorbing the dubious lesson he had just learned. They kept walking, and soon they could see what looked like an outpost on an overpass. A flag flew in the air, and a few wrecks were being used as lodging. They walked towards the top of the hill, seeing a makeshift bar there. Bruce put down a few caps.

"Vodka." The barkeep nodded, placing a bottle full of the clear liquid on the table.

"You know that stuff makes you dehydrated." The voice came from a young woman that had been standing by the overpass.

"Yeah, but it makes me happy." Bruce noticed the woman wore some kind of brown robe, with a power fist on her right hand. He noticed her looking over Johnson's armor, spotting the Brotherhood logo. In low voice, she asked them.

"Are you with the Brotherhood?" Bruce nodded.

"Yeah, my name is Paladin-Colonel Bruce Williams. That's Knight Initiate Maxson, and that's Knight Avery Johnson."

"A Paladin-Colonel? I've never heard that one before. Is he really a Maxson, as in _the_ Maxson?"

"Yes he is. I'm a Paladin-Colonel because I'm a Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel, and a Colonel in the United States of DC Army. What about you?"

"I'm Scribe Veronica Santangelo, of the Mojave Brotherhood. So, that expedition sent out actually made it to Washington DC?"

"Yeah, they made it about twenty years before I was born. They kept the Super Mutants at bay, and helped the citizens of the then Capital Wasteland. Now, we use our technology to help rebuild America." Veronica's eyes had widened a little.

"Your Chapter actually helps people instead of having a hard on for technology?"

"Yeah, although a splinter group had broken off, called the Outcasts, they still searched for technology. Recently we were able to patch things up with them, and bring them back into the fold. Johnson here was actually a part of them. I was on a mission to Lost Hills, and those bastards NCR on Hoover Dam shot down our Vertibird."

"Yeah, the NCR are defeating us at Lost Hills. We don't have enough troops to hold them off. My own Chapter was driven into hiding by them."

"Well, where are they now? We need assistance." Veronica was about to answer, when four NCR troopers walked up to them. Two of them were wearing what was probably standard gear. The other were wearing what looked like T-45d power armor, but with the NCR flag painted on the chest plate.

"Well, what have we here? That's some nice armor buddy, where did you get it?" They were speaking to Johnson, who just stood there, staring coldly.

"It was issued to me, local. Don't you have some rocks to bang together?"

"That's real funny pal. My father died fight you Brotherhood fucks." Arthur looked at them with a righteous anger in his eyes.

"My father died fighting you jumped up savages!"

"Shut your mouth kid, men are talking." Bruce lean backward, then lashed put with his fist, knocking the offending soldier senseless. Arthur tackled the other one, both going to the ground. The two in armor decided to fight Johnson, who was more than happy to. Assisted as he was by the servos in his armor, there were two of them. That was rectified by Veronica, after she punched on in the back of the head with her power fist. The man's neck broke, killing him, but nobody else seemed to care. A vicious right hook to the throat crushed the windpipe of the other.

"Hey, what do think you're doing?" Three more troopers began to run along the bridge, firing some kind of rifle. Bruce drew his pistol, firing back. Arthur, who had stabbed the soldier in the kidney with a combat knife, stood, drawing his laser rifle from his back. Johnson drew his as well, and soon they had an effective field of fire. A lucky bullet from one of the soldiers caught Johnson in the weak shoulder of his armor. Dropping his rifle, he drew his pistol and kept firing.

"What now?"

"I don't know Arthur. Keep shooting." Bruce reached into the pocket of his coat, pulled out a bright green object, with two little prongs on the top. Priming the powerful plasma grenade, he threw it. It bounced along towards the troopers, who didn't notice. A bright green flash and a loud explosion signaled the grenade had gone off with a hitch.

"Okay, Veronica, can you take us to you Chapter?"

"Well, sure. Do you want to go the long way or the short way?"

"The short way."

"Okay, but we'll have to sneak past some Deathclaws and stuff." Arthur and Johnson looked horrified, but Bruce wasn't worried. Not _too_ worried anyway.

"Okay, let's go."

_Okay, this is my first time writing for one of my favorite game franchises. Obviously I don't own Fallout. Comments are appreciated, as is helpful criticism. Don't be a dick, just tell me where you think I need improvement. Thanks for reading. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Stay on the bomb run, boys! I'm gonna get them doors open if it harelips ever'body on Bear Creek! _ Major T.J. "King" Kong

_All right, I'm back. I must say its good to be back too. I'm gonna jump back into this and see what happens. I was influenced to create some of these OCs by a very important movie to me. If you can tell me what movie I won't have to nuke your house. Kidding. Ok, here we go._

The Courier, a man shaped by the trauma and hardship he had suffered during his 39 years. One didn't get to be that old in the Wasteland by being lazy, or stupid. Known to most as Charlie Two-Shirts, he was a half-Caucasian, half-Apache, born in the desolate Wastes of Texas. His father had moved them to Arizona, then to the Mojave as the Legion began its swallowing of tribes. Charlie became a Courier for the Mojave Express, getting into more than his share of fights. His father, also a Courier, had been killed while making a run in Legion lands. Charlie developed an intense hatred for the Legion, vowing to kill Caesar himself. After being shot in the head by Benny, Charlie only knew who he was because of the battered, ancient dog tags he wore around his neck. His great-great grandfather had been a soldier in the U.S. Army, and the dog tags had passed from father to son ever since. These were the thoughts that whirled in the mind of the Courier as he and his companion, Craig Boone, headed towards the NCR base at Camp McCarran.

Charlie was a man of average height, and a bit bulky from hand-to-hand combat. His skin was a mix of white, and the famous red of his native ancestors, his hair was red, inherited from his mother. He had a five o'clock shadow from not having shaved in a few days. He was protected from most harmful things in the Wastes by a long leather trench coat, not unlike those worn by NCR Veteran Rangers. The sleeves had been cut away though, exposing his powerful arms to the Mojave sun. Fingerless gloves protected his hands, allowing him to be quick on the draw with his ancient Colt .45 revolver. A battered, wide brimmed cowboy had covered his head, and an ancient pair of sunglasses, found in a ruined police station, covered his eyes. An ancient bulletproof vest from the same place covered his torso, and a pair of tough jeans and cowboy boots protected his lower body. A battered rifle, an M1 Garand, was strapped on his back, its killing power earning it a place so far from its own time. A hand made tomahawk was hanging from Charlie's hip, a handle made from the partly melted down armor of a Legion Centurion, and the blade from the bone of a Deathclaw.

Charlie's companion looked just as deadly, if less exotic. He wore a slightly yellowed white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of OD combat pants. Ancient combat boots protected his feet, and sunglasses protected his keen eyes. A red beret sat on his head, a patch on it showing him to have been part of the 1st Recon Sniper Battalion. A scoped hunting rifle, chambered for .308 rounds, was strapped to his back. In the distance, they could see ruined buildings, and the concrete wall surrounding Camp McCarran. The continued, neither saying anything as they neared their destination. Small figures could be soon be made out, although it was impossible to see who they were.

"Boone, use your scope to see who those are."

"Sure." Boone unlimbered his rifle, sighting down it through the scope. The figures resovled themselves into thin humans, dressed in an assortment of rags and leather. They clutched a variety of weapons, ranging from ancient pool cues to Laser Rifles.

"What do you see?"

"Raiders, probably Fiends, about ten of 'em, unless some are hiding." Charlie consulted the map on his Pip-Boy 3000, a gift from Doc Mitchell in Goodsprings. That was the most direct way to the NCR base, and from the looks of things the Raiders might have been about to cause trouble for some of the NCR guards around the walls.

"Let's see if we can thin them out." Boone nodded, following Charlie as he stealthily made his way towards the group of drug crazy humans. The group seemed to be centered on three of the Raiders, most likely the leaders. On was an African American woman holding a hunting rifle, a small pack of dogs surrounding her. One was leaning on a strangely pristine golf club, watching a couple of minor Raiders squabble over a few chems. The last was a rather large man in metal armor, a welding mask covered his head. He had a flamer tank on his back, and held the firing mechanism rather loosely in his right hand. The one with the golf club finally had enough of the squabbling Raiders, striking one in the kneecap with the club, causing him to go down, the other he struck across the chest, eliciting a holw of pain.

"Shut the fuck up, dipshit! Do you want the goddamned NCR on our fucking heads?" This seemed rather funny, since he was the one that made the man scream in the first place.

"That's funny, Nephi. You made the bastard scream when you hit him."

"Shut up, bitch! Go back to fuckin' your mangy dogs." The one with the mask finally spoke up.

"Are we doing this shit or not? I got stuff to burn!" The arguing pair couldn't argue with that logic, and turned to face the other Raiders. Charlie choose that moment to roll a frag grenade towards the group. It rolled across the pitted pavement, but barely reached the edge of the group before it detonated. The shrapnel began embedding itself in whatever it hit, mostly flesh. Screams pierced the air as Raiders screamed in pain, or pleasure as they took shrapnel or stims. Charlie rose from his hiding spot, his tomahawk in hand. He wove through the Raiders, slicing with precision, and power. He easily sliced through the thin, or non-existant armor the Raiders wore. He had killed at least four before he heard a loud "WHOOSH" to his left, the sound of a flamer about to fire. Charlie waited for the intense heat, the scent of burning flesh, but it never came. A loud "BOOM" sounded, and suddenly the tank on the man's back was spewing flames, mostly on the man himself. Charlie nodded in Boone's direction before turning to face the Raiders again.

"Who the fuck are you?" It was the one with the golf club.

"Charlie Two-Shirts. Who the hell are you?"

"Driver Nephi, one of the most wanted fuckers in the Wasteland. The NCR even put a bounty on my head." He seemed proud of the fact.

"Is that so?" With a speed almost unreal, the Colt was drawn, and two shots were in the chest of the Raider before he even knew what hit him. The other Raiders were running, being picked off by Boone one-by-one. Charlie approached the body of Nephi, holstering his Colt, and steadying his tomahawk. With a brutal chop he severed the head of the Fiend lieutenant. He walked over to the partly blown up corpse of the one with the flamer. Obviously this one, and the woman with the dogs had been major players too. Maybe there was a bounty on their heads as well. Soon, the heads were bundled up in the shirt of a dead Raider, tied to Charlie's pack. Many of the better quality weapons had also been bundled together, to sell for extra caps. The guard stopped them at the gate.

"Who are you, and what is your business here?" Boone stepped forward.

"I'm former Corporal Craig Boone, 1st Recon. We're here to see Major Dhatri."

"Ok, but you will be watched. This IS a military base." Charlie and Boone nodded, and walked through the gate. Many tents were set up in what was once a parking lot for airline customers. A few rusted down truck and trailer combos sat here and there, as well as some rusted down military troop trucks. The duo walked towards the entance to the main building, thinking the Major would be inside. They actually found him leaving the building, walking towards the 1st Recon tents.

"Major Dhatri?" The man looked up, a surprised grin spreading across his face as he recognized Boone.

"Boone! What brings you here?"

"Business." It was Charlie who answered.

"Who's your friend Boone?"

"Charlie Two-Shirts. He was a Courier that got double crossed. I'm just helping him out."

"Okay, so, what kind of business?" Charlie set his pack on the ground, untying the bundle.

"Is there a bounty on these guys?" Major Dhatri looked in the bloody sack.

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch. Driver Nephi, Violet, and Cook-Cook. You do damn good work. I'll give you five hundread caps for the lot." Charlie nodded, waiting patiently while Dhatri counted out the money. As he was, a young soldier came running up too him.

"Sir, our runner just came back. Lieutenant Monore and his men are dead, they were killed by Great Khans, and apparently the Brotherhood of Steel was involved as well. They also attacked the 188 Trading Post, killing several of our men, and wounding some others. The wounded described the leader as a young man, wearing what looked like a pre-War military uniform."

"Goddamn it! Of all the times for this to happen." He looked up at Charlie.

"You wouldn't be willing to help us again would you? I hate to ask, but we're short on man power at the moment."

"I will, I just gotta take care of some business in Vegas first. Can I use your monorail?" The Major looked deep in thought before he looked back at Charlie.

"Sure, just don't do anything on the Strip that would compromise the NCR."

"Of course, come on Boone." They shook hands with the Major, before entering the main building of the airport-turned-base. They walked up an escalator that had not worked in centuries, rounding a corner to find a few old soda machines and two guards.

"Who goes there?"

"We have permission from Major Dhatri to use the monrail, ma'am."

"You do? Well, go aboard, but we're watchin' you." Charlie and Boone walked through the door leading to the Pre-War monorail, exiting back out into the Mojave heat. The climbed up into the only car of the monorail, waiting for it to start. An electric sparking was heard as the monorail powered up and began to glide along its rail. Charlie and Boone sat back, enjoying the cool air as it whipped by them.


	3. Chapter 3

The group of four moved silently down what was once a major highway, now nothing more than a collection of pavement chunks. It was a rather odd looking group, with one man in a military uniform, one in full power armor, a young boy in grey combat armor, and a young woman in brown hooded robe. All were armed, you had to be these days. Bruce, known back in the ruins of DC as the Lone Wanderer, scanned the horizon with his keen eyes. He was looking for the familar shape of one the most dangerous wasteland beasts. Up ahead was the entrance to a canyon, or quarry. A large piece of Pre-War machinery sat there, and Bruce noticed something moving in it's shadow. It was the hunched form of a Deathclaw, it's long, powerful arms tipped in claws that could sheer through power armor like butter.

"Guys, stop. I see one, about seventy yards to the right, next to that hunk of metal." The group stopped, looking where Bruce had indicated. They all saw it, and Avery, the man in power armor, and Arthur, the boy in combat armor, readied their laser rifles. Bruce knew from experiance a laser rifle wouldn't do much against one unless you hit it in the eyes or mouth. But it wouldn't do to tell them that, he needed morale up. He drew the 10mm pistol that had once belonged to Colonel Autumn, and was now his. His right arm mad a quiet clacking noise as he flexed it, and Veronica looked at him funny. Bruce lined up his shot and fired, the gunshot making Arthur jump. Bruce was rewarded with a roar of pain. He knew the bullet wouldn't kill it, but now it was part blind.

It charged, slowly at first, but picking up speed. It was rather small for a Deathclaw, but still enough to kill them. It skin was a mottled brown, not that different than the ones back home. It's left eye was gone, a bloody crater replacing it. Avery and Arthur began to fire, taking the hint from Bruce they fired at it's face. The creature was in obvious pain, but still didn't slow down. As it neared, Bruce drew a wicked looking combat knife from his boot, serrated and with a knuckle guard for punching. The Deathclaw slowed and tensed it's legs, preparing to leap at them. A resounding gunshot sounded, and the creature's head exploded. Bruce turned to thank their saviors when he saw who they were.

One was wearing a long leather trench coat, a Pre-War helmet and gasmask covering his face. A police issue bulletproof vest protected his chest. The other wore clothes straight from a Western holovid, tan trousers with a worn leather holster slung around them. A large pistol sat in the holster. A dirty blue shirt was all that protected him, and a wide brimmed hat covered his face from the sun. The one with the pistol cracked a grin.

"Well, well Hauser. What have we here?" He looked at his companion.

"I don't know, Phillips, what?"

"I do believe that that boy right there in the trench coat is the one that caused that ruckus at the tradin' post." He contiuned to grin, and Hauser, then one in the helmet, shifted his grip on the massive rifle he carried. Bruce finally spoke up.

"Ok, you NCR cocksuckers, how bout you let me and my friends be on our way, and I won't take this knife and ram it in your throat." They both started chuckling, and Phillips', the one who looked like a cowboy, hand started drifting towards his pistol. With an inhuman speed the trench knife left Bruce's hand and buried itself in Phillips' throat. His pistol snapped up and he popped off two rounds. Hauser fell to the ground, both eye lenses shattered by bullets. Bruce sauntered over and plucked the massive rifle from Hauser's dead hands. Bruce found the magazine release, and hit it. The mag fell out, but Bruce caught it before it hit the ground. Three rounds here, and one in the chamber, and it had amazing stopping power. He turned to Veronica.

"What kind of rifle is this?"

"It's a .50 MG anti-materiel rifle, designed for use against light armored vehicles and power armored troops. But don't get me off track, what's up with your arm?" Bruce sighed, he knew this would come up sooner or later.

"There is a Post-War community in what was once called Massachusetts, now called the Commonwealth. It's an irradiated shithole, but the real jewel is the Institute, a conclave of scientists possessing radically advanced technology. They have sucessfully created androids, which look and act like living human beings. I cleared out a little problem they had a year or so ago, and they gifted me with a cybernetic arm, much faster and stonger than flesh and blood." Veronica's look was somewhere between awe and disgust.

"You actually had you arm replaced with a metal one?" Bruce nodded. It wasn't like he hacked his own arm off and taped a Protectron arm on. He walked over to the other dead man and unbuckled his holster. He pulled out the pistol, noting it was a .44 magnum. Satisfied, he unbuttoned his coat, showing a black field jacket with the name "Autumn" stitched on the left breast pocket. He began unbuckling the bulletproof vest from Hauser. He pulled it free, tossing his coat to Arthur. He buckled the vest around himself, then the gunbelt. He pulled his coat back on.

"Are you guys ready?" They all nodded and Bruce took off. Until he realized he didn't know where they were going. He said as much to Veronica.

"We can go the short way, or the long way. Short way takes us through those hill, and we might meet up with some Super Mutants. Long way takes us through a small NCR mining town, and we'll probaly meet some Powder Gangers."

"Short way. Super Mutants are one of my many specialties." They walked slowly, Bruce using his keen hearing to listen for Super Mutants. They passed a small, empty shack atop a hill, rounding a corner. A Super Mutant stood there, his skin color was a dark green, much different than the yellowish orange of the Mutants in DC. Arthur and Avery took aim with their rifles, but before they could fire, it spoke.

"Wait, humans. I mean you no harm. This place is dangerous for a human." Bruce swaggered up to the gigantic green mutant.

"It can be dangerous for your kind too, mutant. I've only met two other intelligent Super Mutants before, and they didn't look like you."

"My name is Neil, human. Not 'mutant'."

"My name is Bruce, Neil. Glad to meet you." Bruce held out his hand, all traces of animosity gone. He held a deep seated hatred for the Vault 87 mutants, but Fawkes and Uncle Leo had earned his friendship and trust. Fawkes was a steadfast companion, and a vaulable ally in combat. Uncle Leo was a great thinker, and a force of peace in the Capital.

"Would you listen to a proposal, Bruce?" Bruce nodded. "The leader of Super Mutants here at Black Mountain is insane, and they have been killing caravans and settlers, more than usual lately. My leader, Marcus, wanted to create a safe have for our kind here, but Tabitha rallied her kin and drove him off. I have been doing what I can to turn mutants away to Marcus' new location, but it would be easier if Tabitha were gone." Bruce pondered on this. If it were true, then most of the Super Mutants out here were at least semi-intelligent, unlike the ones back home.

"Very well, Neil. We'll help." Neil grinned, but it looked more like he was about to eat somebody. Neil then took off up the mountain, while Bruce and company slowy started. Primative barricades covered the sides of the road, and two Super Mutant guards stood there. One held a massive machine gun that looked tiny in it's arms and the other held a Super Sledge. Bruce aimed the massive rifle he carried, and sighted the gun-toting Mutant. He fired, and watched in awe as the shell almost tore the Super Mutant in half. The other looked around in confusion until it spotted Bruce. With a half-mad laugh it charged at them. Avery and Arthur opened fire, the lasers buring the tough green hide. The coup de grace was when Veronica met the creature's charge and rammed the power fist into it's chin. It's thick neck broke with a crack, and it's body dropped.

They walked up towards the other dead mutant, where Bruce motioned to Avery to pick up the machine gun. He slung his rifle and picked it up, taking point. They saw no more mutants until the rounded a curve. One came running down the hill, bellowing and swinging a sledge hammer. Avery dropped on his stomach and fired the gun at the Mutant's legs. The machine gun roared it's own war cry and cut the Mutant down as it ran. The wounds didn't kill the mutant, but it's forward momentum kept the bellowing beast tumbling off the edge of the mountain.

The came to the top of the mountain, a site of dilapedated buildings and rubble. The group of four crouched as Bruce scanned the area with his rifle. He saw two Mutants just mill about, one with a hunting rifle and the other with a large piece of concrete on the end of several steel rods.

"Ok, I see two. I'm gonna take out the one with the rifle, then let you get the last one Avery." Avery nodded, but Veronica spoke up.

"Just because you can see two doesn't mean that's all there is."

"Huh?"

"The Nightkin, they're Super Mutants who use Stealth Boys. Due to something about their biology they can use it a lot longer than a human."

"Ah, shit. Fuck it, we'll do it anyway." Bruce sighted the Mutant up and fired. It's head soon disappeared in a shower of gore. The other Mutant roared and charged them. Avery opened up with his machine gun, but after six shots it jammed up, useless.

"Uh oh." The Mutant backhanded him, throwing him into the side of a building. Bruce was about to blow it away, when his rifle was sheared in half by an invisible assailant. A huge, crackling shape stood over Bruce as the Stealth Boy wore off. Dark blue skin stood in contrast to the green of the other one. It held a massive sword that looked like it was made from a car bumper. It backhanded Bruce, sending him head over ass into a burned out car. Arthur started firing his laser rifle, the super heated light burning through the skin of the Mutant at such a close range. It roared in pain, but Arthur kept at it, soon the Mutant was on the ground, dead. The other Mutant looked at Arthur, giving Veronica enough time to attack it. The power fist broke the Mutant's right arm, before it threw her into Bruce, who was just getting up. Arthur fired as the Mutant, his face twisting in horror as the laser rifle ran dry.

The Mutant kicked him, sending him tumbling into a large impact crater, possibly made by a nuke. Bruce rose up, firing the .44 revolver at the Mutant. The Mutant's head was destroyed as it started to climb down the crater. Bruce heard the Geiger counter on his Pip-Boy begin to click as he realized Arthur was still down there. Bruce jumped into the crater, watching the Rad counter on the Pip-Boy rise. He picked up Arthur's prone body and slung him over his shoulder. He began to climb back up the steep incline, the going slow because of the boy's weight. As he began to crest the lip of the crater, the bruised face of Avery appeared. He grabbed onto Arthur's armor, pulling him out.

"Thanks, Avery."

"You look like shit boss." Bruce chuckled a little, then realized Avery had actually cracked a joke. He only did that when shit got serious. Arthur had been exposed to a very large dose of radiation in that crater. Bruce opened one of the pockets on his black combat pants, pulling out a small packet of pills.

"What are those?" Bruce looked at Veronica.

"A year or so ago, one of the eggheads at the Institute tried to make a pill form of RadAway. It worked, sort of. It just abates the effects of radiation poisoning for awhile, instead of getting rid of it all together."

"So, how long does it last?"

"An hour, two hours tops." Avery handed Bruce a battered canteen, who took it gratefully. He put two pills in Arthur's mouth, then poured some water in there. Arthur swallowed it, which was a good sign. Bruce gave the canteen back, then hefted Arthur up on his shoulder. He carried him to a small shack that had been made functional by the Mutants. It was mostly one room, with a wall of tin roofing enclosing one part. Bruce laid Arthur down on a makeshift bed, throwing his trenchcoat over him. He checked his .44 and his 10mm pistols, making sure they were fully loaded.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna that goddamn Mutant, then we can leave in piece." He strode from the building, watching as several blurs made their way towards him. He pulled a syringe from his pocket, a lable of masking tape marked it as "Pyscho". He injected it into his thigh, whincing as the contents emptied into his bloodstream. His face soon twisted into a feral grin, his pistols aiming at the blurs. He fired with the 10mm, causing the steal field to crackle. A loud roar sounded and a head was gone. Four more blurs rushed at him, while he fired his pistols with reckless abandon. When they ran dry he dropped them and picked up one of the rebar clubs they dropped. He was bashing bodies, his rage fueled by the drug coursing through his veins. He got to the top of the hill, a small compound surrounded by a makeshift fence. A loud cackle was heard as was the screaming of a rocket.

Bruce dropped to the ground, feeling the drug wearing off. He cursed himself for his addiction, but he was a war junkie. He knew he was screwed right now, the only weapon he had was his trench knife. He looked back down the hill at the dead Mutants, hoping to see a fire arm. All of them had melee weapons though, useless right now. As he looked, he spotted a small green object on one of their bandoliers. A grenade! He crawled down the hill, whincing as rockets whistled overhead. He fumble at the body for the grenade, cutting his hand a piece of the Mutant's makeshift armor. He grabbed it and began back up the hill. The rocket launching Mutant was standing on what had probably been some kind of broadcasting tower. Bruce primed the grenade and chucked it, watching as it flew over the Mutant's head and landed behind it. The grenade detonated, cutting the Mutant's legs off. The Mutant roared for another minute or so as it's blood pooled on the ground below. He opened the door into one od the buildings, finding nothing but a .357 magnum revolver and a little ammo.

He opened the door to the other building, noting a locked door next to a console. Another computer sat on a metal table and Bruce felt a compulsion to look at it. He noticed most of it was sort of a diary, but the 6th entry was just a series of numbers. He grinned as he went over to the keypad and punched in the code. He opened the door and was surprised to see a ghoul sitting at a computer.

"Hey, you came to rescue me?" The Ghoul had a strange accent, like the Mexican banditos in the old Western holovids he watched back home.

"Sorry, I didn't even know you were here. I'm trying to kill the leader of the Mutants here. I'm Bruce by the way."

"My name's Raul Tejada. Is it okay if I tag along with you?" Bruce nodded, then watched as the ghoul walked over to a large trunk at the end of his bed. Raul opened it and pulled a weathered gunbelt from it. Unlike the one the NCR man had worn, this one had two holsters, filled with two .44 magnums. Raul walked back over to Bruce.

"Okay, I'm ready boss." They walked back out of the building. A loud bellow alerted them to the presence of three Mutants, one regular, the other two were Nightkin. The regular one and one of the Nightkin charged, swinging sledgehammers. Bruce had drawn his newly aquired revolver, snapping off two shots into the regular Mutant's head. Raul had taken care of the Nightkin, but the last had grabbed him around the throat and slammed him against a building. Bruce examined the Nightkin as he drew a bead on it. It wore a blonde wig obviously meant for a woman, and red heart shaped sunglasses. He finally put an end to the obscene rantings it was screaming in Raul's face by emptying the revolver into the back of it's head.

"Thanks, boss." Bruce nodded as he patted down the Nightkin's trousers, finding a small key. He walked towards what was most likely the broadcast station for the radio. He walked in, looking around at the still functioning consoles.

"Raul, is there any way we could rig this into sending a message to say, I don't know, Washington D.C?" Raul walked up to the equipment and examined it.

"Sure thing, boss. But it'll take a couple hours at least." Bruce thought about it. He had to get Arthur to the Brotherhood or he was going to die. But, he needed to send a message to D.C to send in the cavalry. It looked like he had stepped into another full-scale war.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ok, back again. I'm sorry for the long delays and I want to thank you all for you patience. Allright, I'm gonna introduce an OC to take care of some of the Legion stuff. He won't be Legion per se, but he really isn't a goof guy. As always, review, and I don't own Fallout._

_Survival kit contents check. In them you'll find: one .45 caliber automatic; two boxes of ammunition; four days concentrated emergency raisons; one drug issue containing: antibiotics, morphine, vitamin pills, pep pills, sleeping pills, tranquilizer pills; one miniature combination Russian phrase book and bible; one hundred dollars in rubles; one hundred dollars in gold; nine packs of chewing gum; one issue of prophylactics; three lipsticks; three pair a nylon stockings. Shoot, a fellah could have a pretty good weekend in Vegas with all that stuff. __**Major T.J "King" Kong**_

Charlie and Boone stepped off the monorail into the NCR terminal. NCR troops were standing about, looking like nothing more than loitering teenagers. Charlie and Boone were uncontested as they made their way down the stairs and to the door. He stepped out onto the New Vegas strip, and couldn't help the little smile that came to his face. Even in a world like this, you could still find wonders. He scanned the brightly lit signs that lit the street as day began to end and night start. The Tops casino was not too far from where they stood, so Charlie took off towards it. He walked into the brightly lit casino, looking at the two well dressed men behind a counter. One of them spoke to him.

"Hey hey, fella, welcome to the Tops Hotel and Casino! I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over any weapons you might be carrying." Charlie was expecting something like this, so he just smiled and handed over his rifle and pistol. His tomahawk was tucked under his heavy coat, and he also had a combat knife tucked in his boot. He walked over to the other man, noticing his suit was better made than the receptionist.

"Excuse me. Where can I find Benny? I'm a friend of his." The man looked him over skeptically.

"Okay, pally. Benny's on the 13th floor, in the the room with the double doors." Another smile crossed Charlie's dark features.

"Thanks, friendo." He walked towards where a sign pointed out the elevators. He climbed into the only working one and hit "13". As the elevator began to move, Charlie turned to Boone.

"Okay. Benny doesn't know you, so you're gonna knock on the door. When he opens it, I'm gonna get him with my knife." Boone looked at him dubiously.

"You really think that will work?" Charlie nodded as Boone sighed. The doors opened with a ping and the duo stepped out. They walked down the hall until they got to the only room with double doors. Charlie crouched behind one of the decorative plants that were on either side of the door as Boone walked to the door. He knocked, and waited as he heard somebody walking towards it. One of the door opened, revealing a somewhat creepy looking guy in an immaculate checkered suit.

"What do you want?" Boone was about to answer when a black and gray blur hit the man in the side of the head. Instead of seeing a spurt of blood like he expected, Boone saw that the man had been knocked out. Charlie picked up his knife from the floor, then grabbed one of the man's arms. Boone closed the door, leaving no trace that intruders were in Benny's room. Boone scanned the room while Charlie cut a bedsheet into long strips. He spotted a gun rack, holding a large shotgun and a holster containing what looked like a gold plated pistol.

"Hey, Charlie." The man looked up just in time to catch the holster. He pulled the gun from it, examining it with a frown on his face.

"This is what that son of a whore shot me with." Boone nodded as he loaded shells into the shotgun. It wasn't a sniper rifle, but it was better than nothing. Charlie sat the unconsious man in a chair, then began to loop the shredded bed sheet around him, effectively tying him to the chair. Charlie walked over behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig, he offered it to Boone who declined. Charlie shrugged and emptied the contents onto Benny's head. The head of the Chairmen woke up, sputtering violently. Until he saw Charlie.

"Holy shit! You're supposed to be dead." Charlie gave him a chilling smile.

"It ain't no fun when you're the one tied up, is it?" Benny seemed to notice the trouble he was in at that moment.

"Oh, fuck, please don't kill me! I can give you caps, power, anything! I can give you the Strip!" Charlie looked at him, intrigued.

"What? How would you do that?"

"That Platinum Chip you were supposed to deliver! It's some kinda data device that will make the Securitrons invincble! I swear." Charlie reached into Benny's coat pocket, taking the Chip. He walked behind Benny, placing his hands on Benny's shoulders.

"Benny, have you ever heard the legends of what the Apache people did to settlers and soldiers in their territory?" When Benny shook his head he continued. He leaned down close to Benny's ear. "They scalped them." He grabbed Benny's hair and dug the serrated edge of his combat knife through the man's scalp. Benny let out a high pitched squeal as his scalp became detached from his skull. Boone looked on, seemingly unperturbed, but this was one of the most depraved things he had ever seen. Charlie tore the skin and hair free from Benny's skull, letting out an Apache war cry. He walked back in front of the bleeding man, sheathing his knife and pulling Benny's gold pistol from where it was stuffed in his belt. He chuckled as he tried to immitate Benny's voice.

"From where you're sittin' this must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck." His smile widened as he pulled the trigger. The 9mm handgun bellowed as the hollow point smashed into Benny's head, obliterating it like an overripe piece of fruit. Charlie tucked the pistol back into his belt, and stuffed the bloody scalp into one of his coat's many pockets.

"Let's get outta here." They walked out, expecting to be confronted by guards. Apparently gunshots and screaming from Benny's room were normal. The ride down the elevator was quiet as Charlie reflected on what he had done. He had never scalped another person before, and he was kinda afraid because he really enjoyed it. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The elevator doors opened and he exited, followed by Boone. He walked to the desk to retrieve his weapons. As the man gave him back his M1 Garand and his Colt pistol he gave Charlie a sly smile. Charlie shrugged and walked back out onto the brightly lit Strip. He tensed up a little when an NCR MP jogged up to him.

"Are you Charlie Two-Shirts?" Charlie nodded. "I got a message to you from Ambassador Crocker, he wants to meet with you."

"Okay, thanks." The trooper nodded and walked off, soon becoming lost in the crowd. Not wanting to take the monorail back, they walked towards the actual entance to the Strip. As they passed the Lucky 38 Charlie spotted a familiar "face" on one of the Securitrons. It rolled over to him, a smiling cowboy with a cigarette dangling from his lips on the screen instead of a stern faced cop.

"Well, howdy pardner! Fancy seein' you here." Charlie allowed himself a grin.

"Hey, Victor. How are you?"

"Just fine for an ol' cowpoke. Say, if ya got a minute, you wouldn't care to meet the big boss, would ya?"

"You mean Mr. House?"

"Yeah, it'll just take a minute." Charlie looked at Boone, who stayed as emotionless as ever.

"Okay." A series of electronic beeps issued from Victor's chassis speakers, and the blast doors on the Lucky 38 opened up, revealing the actual doors. Charlie motioned for Boone and they walked through the doors.

0000000

The man walked along the cracked highway, paying no attention to the NCR troopers across the old chainlink fence at the sharecropper's farm. He got some hostile looks from the troopers, but given the way he looked that was to be expected. His hair was a red and black mohawk, with a small black goatee on his chin. He had a slightly mad look in his intense brown eyes. He wore old leather motorcycle pants and boots, a leather holster on his hip containing a sawed-off 12 gauge shotgun. Black football pads protected his torso, a piece of steel bolted to one shoulder, and some feathers decorating the other. In his hands he carried a weapon not many people had seen. A crossbow. He had found it up north, in what was left of Montana. His inner thoughts were interrupted by a NCR soldier with a big mouth.

"You raider piece of trash! Why don't you go die somewhere?" The soldier spat at him, narrowly missing his boot. The man smiled madly, the soldier walking back a little.

"Little soldier boy taunting the barbarian at the gate. Maybe the barbarian should cut his tongue, hmm?" He descended into a laughing fit causing the soldier to stumble back even more. He continued walking, the soldier getting redfaced at the man's taunts. The man walked, passed teh Gun Runners factory and the Crimson Caravan. He kept walking. He had a date at Nellis AFB.

He passed and old shack, and as he looked to his right he noticed a few ragged looking people sitting around a fire. Well, it was getting dark. He sauntered over, none of them noticed him yet. They did when one of the older men let out a high pitched scream as a crossbow bolt took him in the back. It had pierced his spine, leaving him unable to move. A younger man stood, a rusty kitchen knife in his hand, while the only woman of the group curled into a ball, not looking at either man. The ragged man rushed at their attacker, yelling and swinging the knife wildly. The attacker snorted, then all of a sudden leapt towards the ragged man. A punch to the gut, and a knee to the face quickly put the ragged man down. A boot to the windpipe shut him and the old man up. He roughly grabbed the woman, pulling her on he back. She was attractive enough. She'd do. The man began undoing his trousers.

00000

The next morning rose to a scene of brutality at the site of a campfire for drug addicts. Two dead men, and a catatonic woman. The woman reached for the rust knife the ragged man had, smiling as she drew it across her throat. The man that had violated the camp paid no mind as he was almost a mile away by now. He was walking up a small incline, towards what his map said was the base.

He saw a man leaning against the guardrail along the shattered road, smoking a cigarette. He approached the smoking man, his eyes burning into him. The man raised himself up and sauntered over.

"Howdy stranger. Name's George. You don't wanna be goin' that way." The man grinned.

"And why's that?"

"The Boomers. They'll shell the shit outta anybody that nears their base. I can give you the timing details. For a price." George smiled wide.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Double or nothing on you making it back alive." George continued to grin, until the stranger pulled the shotgun from his hip. "Hey, man! You can't do that!" The stranger grinned.

"Wrong." The shotgun fired, blasting two slugs into George's chest. The man rumaged through George's pockets, coming up with a few caps, a crumpled pack of smokes, and a note. He smiled as he continued up the hill. He reached into a small pouch on his waist and pulled out a glass inhaler. A bright red liquid filled the glass tube. He put it to his lips and pressed, feeling an immense boost in energy. He dropped the empty inhaler, as the world around him seemed to move slower. He looked at the intact chainlink fence in the distance, determined to get there. He took off running, hearing loud booms like thunder in the irradiated Great Plains. Whistling was heard as the shells began their descent to the ground.

He continued, feeling dirt and small pieces of metal hitting his back as he ran. The fence was in his sight, before a shell from a man-portable launcher hit the ground in front of him. He was lifted off the ground and slammed into a large boulder he had leapt over. Normally he would have been knocked out, but the powerful drug coursing through his system allowed him to get up and keep running. He hit the fence and almost bounced off of it, but managed to keep his footing. He ran alongside of it until he found the gate.

Two guard towers were inside the perimeter, and several guards wearing what looked like Vault suits with military jackets over them. One of the guards, a youner man with a rocket launcher walked up to the gate.

"How did you get past our barrage?"

"I ran. Let me in, I have a message from Caesar." Before the man could reply a young woman wearing combat armor walked up to the gate, wielding a mini-gun.

"Outlander, I am Raquel, the Master-at-Arms for the Nellis homeland. Mother Pearl, our eldest, desires to speak with you."

"Well, hello. And my name is not Outlander. I am Wez, emmissary of the Legion."

"Just follow me." Wez stared at her backside as she walked away. The armor may have covered it, but it still had a nice sway to it. He started after her, sneering at the guards as he walked. He studied the base as he walked, trying to get a sense of the numbers. He saw several large artillery pieces, and most of the Boomers had a type of shoulder launcher, be it rocket or Fat Man. They walked past a boarded up building with a large tower, and towards what looked like a cabin. From what he had learned about the United States military, they liked stuff to look like this. They walked into one of the buildings, where a white haired Hispanic woman was waiting.

"Hello, sweet child. You took your time getting here. I've been waiting a good five years for you." This caused Wez to go blank. What in the hell did she mean? He'd only started working for the Legion a few weeks ago.

"What do you mean, old one?" If she was insulted by his name for her, she gave no sign.

"We need an outsider to bring us back into contact with the outside world. We wish to remain independent, but we wish to survive as well." Wez chuckled.

"It seems to me like ya'll have it pretty good. Food, water, women." He leered at Raquel at that last part, who glared back at him.

"I know, but it will not last forever. If you help us, then we will help you. What is it you wish?"

"The Great Caesar seeks the aid of the Boomers' guns. Turn them on the NCR, and he will let you stay free. Turn them on Caesar and your men will be killed, and the women given to the dogs. The children, the males, will become Legion. It is a good bargain." The old woman sighed.

"Do these tasks, and you will have our guns." Wez nodded.

"What would have me do?" The old woman turned to Raquel, who stepped forward.

"Several fire ants have made their way into our generator room, and somehow the power has been cut. Kill the pests and restore power. The power station is the building with all the solar panels on it." Wez nodded, leaving the two women alone.

"What do you think of him, Raquel?"

"I think he is a piece of savage trash. Maybe the ants will kill him." The old woman chuckled.

"Somehow I doubt that."

00000

_Okay, how was that? Did you like the new guy? I wanted to give the Legion something to do. Its not like their gonna sit there while the NCR beefs up its army, and with LW about to call in the cavalry I didn't want the Legion to be curbstomped. As for the implied rape, I know rape isn't cool, but it is the Wasteland, and Wez isn't a good guy. So, please review._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey, back again. I want to thank my reviewers for their words. Before you ask, yes I changed the title. Why? I didn't like it. It was a title I thought up almost a year ago, and I decided I wanted to change it, so there. Ok, more stuff happens, LW meets Brotherhood, DC Brotherhood gets called in, but probably won't show up for a while. I don't own Fallout._

_Greetings from The Humungus! The Lord Humungus! The Warrior of the Wasteland! The Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla! -Toady  
><em> 

Bruce looked at the people around him. A man, a woman, and a ghoul. These represented some of his only friends right now. Not to mention the sick boy propped up against the wall right now. They had to get him to a doctor, or the massive dose of radiation he absorbed would either kill him or mutate him.

"Veronica, do you think Avery and yourself might make it to the Brotherhood without me? I have to send a message to my superiors." The girl looked deep in thought.

"Maybe, but it would be risky. But we'll try."

"Okay, thanks. I figure he has about an hour before the drug wears off and the rads kick back in." Avery nodded, Bruce helped him put the boy on his back, the power armor doing wonders. They left, and Bruce turned to his new friend.

"Okay, boss. I'm pretty sure this will go straight to DC. But it'll only be on actual radio, they can't talk back." Bruce nodded.

0000

Half a world away, in the growing region of the Capitol, many radios suddenly cut out the music Three Dog had been playing. A voice came on, a voice many knew and loved.

"Hear me, Brothers. The war with the NCR goes badly, the Western Brotherhood has been driven into hiding. They need our assisstance. Send the Pitt Bezerkers, send the Hellfire troopers, send anybody. Send in the Prime." The transmission suddenly cut out, and the old songs started playing again.

In the courtyard of what had once been the US Pentagon, the Brotherhood had scrambled into action. A old man in blue robes stood on a balcony overlooking the courtyard.

"It's time for the Brotherhood to go to war. As much as I am pained to admit it." A figure emerged from the shadows, wearing battered power armor that had been repaired with what looked like junk.

"It was only a matter of time, Owyn. We knew the NCR would grow too large to control. You did the right thing with the chapter. We have grown strong, and we are keeping the wasteland safe."

"Indeed. I must attend to my own wargear. I intend to go. Casdin and yourself will be in charge."

00000

Unknown to Raul and Bruce the message was also heard across the Mojave; an old man sitting on a balcony at a Pre-War golf resort, a mechanical messiah in a casino that hadn't been opened since the Great War, and the son of Mars in his Fort across the river. They pondered this in their heads, each coming to a different conclusion. Robert House was the only one that knew what "The Prime" might be, his company helped to create it. But he was not worried, simply another card in the deck. And he had an ace up his probervial sleeve.

00000

Bruce turned back to Raul. Raul nodded and turned the radio off. They both walked out into the cool Mojave air, enjoying the feel of it.

"Boss, how is the capitol these days?"

"Its amazing, Raul. What we've been able to do in just four short years. We've almost wiped out the hostile Super Mutants, making the whole place safer. We have fresh water, a few working factories in what's left of Pittsburgh. We actually have manufacturing capability. Slavery and raiders have all but become extinct."

"Sounds good, boss."

"Hey, we better see if we can find that bunker. They're probably waiting on us."

00000

The fire ant exploded in a shower of bug guts as the shells slammed into them. Wez had strapped his crossbow to his back, using his shotgun against the bugs. He was on a metal catwalk in the Boomers' power station, looking at the floor below. Many of the pests had heard the gunshots and were coming to investigate. He grinned as he reloaded his shotgun, willing the ants to come to him so he could kill them.

One of the Boomers, a young man named Leeroy, watched as the half-mad man slaughtered the bugs. Leeroy cradled a grenade launcher in his arms, no use to him because of his lack of ammunition. He had leapt across a small gap in the catwalk to an office or something. He let out a small yell as he heard the shotgun again. He heard bootsteps coming towards him.

Wez rounded the corner to see a young Boomer huddled in the corner of what looked like an observation post. He cradled a pristine grenade launcher in his hands, and Wez had just fount a sack full on one of the dead Boomers in the entrance. He leapt over to the Boomer, who had a small smile on his face.

"Have you come to save me?" The mohawked man smiled, but it was the smile of a predator eyeing prey. A jab to the throat caught the Boomer unaware, causing him to drop the launcher. Wez picked him up, the large muscles in his arms flexing as he did so. He dangled the Boomer above the gap, laughing as the Boomer tried to escape. Wez let go, watching as the Boomer landed on his legs, not killing him, but cripling him. The ants began to close in, and Wez smiled as the symphony of pain and terror began to play.

000000

Bruce and Raul had made it down the mountain, only needing to stop to kill a few centaurs. The mutated creatures were no match for Bruce, and the deadeye of Raul. Several bunkers littered the area of the valley, most of them painted with anti-war graffiti. A lot of good it did them. Bruce was about to suggest searching all the bunkers when he heard the familiar whir of power armor. He turned to see a small group of Brotherhood soldiers approaching.

"Stop right there, local. Why are you here?" Bruce chuckled.

"I'm not a local, I'm a member." He reached under his shirt and pulled out a Brotherhood holotag. One of the Paladins stepped forward, examing it.

"It's authentic. Are you really from DC?"

"Yeah, my chapter has helped transform it from a festering hole to a jewel of the East." The other Paladins looked at each other.

"Well, you may come with us. But, be warned, we will tolerate no threats." He looked at Raul as he said it. Both Bruce and Raul nodded, following the Paladins into one of the bunkers. They walked into a small hall, with another steel blast door in front of them. One of the Paladins said something into the intercom and the door opened. Another set of steps and they were in the bunker. A helmetless Paladin stood there, a man of Hispanic descent, short black hair and a close cropped black beard.

"Paladin Ramos, head of security. I've had word from Veronica you were coming. She said you and you're companions were from Washington DC. Is that true?" Bruce nodded as he held out his hand.

"Bruce Williams, Paladin-Colonel. It's weird, I know. I have a joint command. Yeah, I'm part of Elder Lyons' chapter."

"Okay, Elder McNamara wishes to speak with you as well. You're...friend here will be taken to Veronica and the others." Bruce nodded as Ramos began to walk. Another Paladin motioned for Raul to follow. Bruce followed Ramos through the bunker, some of them staring at him, and especially the Enclave hat he wore. Most of them recognized the symbol when they saw it. They walked through another large blast door, into a small room with two exits. One led to a bank of terminals, and the other to who knows where. As he began to really look at it, he noticed how much it looked like the inside of Raven Rock. He shuddered at the memory.

"Hey, Ramos. This place doesn't have a ZAX computer in it, does it?" The other Paladin looked at him funny.

"No, why?" Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

"No reason."

000000000

Across the Wastes at Nellis, Raquel and Pearl were still talking about the new arrival, when all of a sudden the power came back on.

"I think he finished you're mission, Raquel." The younger woman just mumbled and walked outside. She saw the black armored figure approaching from the power station. Several Boomer children ran up to, they had never seen a non-Boomer before. Wez snarled at them, making them all run away.

"The power is on, woman. What must I do next?" Raquel frowned at his lack of respect, but figured there was nothing she could do now. It was his parents fault.

"Go to the hangar and speak with Loyal. I belive he had a mission for you." Grumbling slightly, Wez walked towards the massive hangars. He opened the door to the one she indicated and walked inside. The reamains of an old airplane, a bomber if he remembered right, lay across the hangar floor. An old man, and a man in his twenties looked up as he entered.

"Old man, the girl said you needed my help?" The old man frowned at being called so, but walked over to Wez anyway.

"Yep, outsider. The solar panels on the power station, some of them are damaged. So, obviously, they're not working at their peak. We need you to fix them." The old man, Loyal, walked back over to the young man, helping him with something. Wez said nothing else, he just grabbed a nearby toolbox and walked back outside. He set off towards the array, again.

000000

Charlie and Boone made their way from Vegas past the Crimson Caravan headquarters. They had met with Ambassador Crocker, and he had sent them to enlist the aid of a band of tribals known as the Boomers. They walked in silence, until Boone just stopped.

"Hey, look over there." It was the remains of a small campfire. Three bodies laid around it. Two men and a woman. The men looked like their throats had been crushed, and the woman's throat had been slit. It looked like she had done it to herself, and after a little investigation, it wasn't hard to see why.

"Who do you think did this, Boone? It's too close to Vegas to be raiders, Fiends to come out this way. It's too far north to be Legion." Boone just shook his head. Charlie shrugged and they set off again, pocketing a few drugs they had picked off the bodies. Charlie didn't partake himself, but you can always sell them. They continued following the directions from Charlie's PiPBoy, starting up a small incline. They passed another corpse, this one of a rather well dressed man. His chest had been torn apart by a large caliber gun of some kind.

"It was a shotgun, Charlie. I'm sure of it." Charlie nodded, and motioned for him to follow. They got to the top of the hill; ruined houses and burned out cars sat as a monument to the sins of man. Several large structures further on caught Charlie's eye. He nudged Boone and they started walking. Soon they heard a loud poof, and something whistling. Behind his shades, Boone's eyes widened. He threw Charlie into an old crater as a shell crashed down behind them. They both stood up and began running as fast as they could towards the gate. They saw several guards, all armed with missile launchers and the like. They noticed the two running figures and would have fired if not for the young woman in combat armor.

Charlie and Boone slammed into the gate, making it rattle harshly. The guards had their weapons aimed at the duo, as did the woman in the armor. Charlie noticed the rest of them all wore modified Vault jumpsuits, with military jackets and various medals decorating them. The woman stepped forward.

"More outsiders. Who are you?"

"I'm Charlie Two-Shirts, a freelancer, and this is Craig Boone, a former 1st Recon sniper."

"Ah, you must be here to join your companion." Charlie and Boone looked at one another. Somebody was already here? Crocker had said something about them blowing up any outsider who got close. Charlie decided to play along.

"Yeah. We had a small errand to run before we could catch him." The woman nodded.

"Okay. I am Raquel, Master-at-Arms. Follow me." They followed the woman as she lead them down a cracked runway. She led them past two large hangars, both had been repaired with spare tin and other materials. They walked past several military issue tents, and past several small gardens. Charlie could see that they were now walking towards a small building with several solar arrays on the roof. As they got closer they could see a black armored man up on the roof. He was working on one of the arrays, swearing rather loudly.

"Wez! Come here for a minute." The man, Wez, looked up, glaring at the woman. He stood up and walked down the set of old metal stairs attached to the side of the building.

"Woman, some of these are beyond repair. I've taken the most damaged ones apart and used them to fix the others. But I will need spare parts, and they are not here." He seemed to notice the other two for the first time. "Who are these?"

"I'm Charlie Two-Shirts, and this is Craig Boone." Charlie noticed Raquel look at them rather angrily.

"I thought you said you knew each other. I thought you were Legion, like Wez." Charlie looked at the mohawked man, while Boone narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. Wez just smiled, like a deathclaw that swallowed the brahmin.

"I know you are no NCR degenerate, tribal. But this one." He motioned at Boone. "I could smell the stink of California on him from a mile away." Boone glared at the laughing man, his hand slowly reaching towards his sidearm. Charlie noticed and tried to difuse the situation.

"Indeed, Mr Wez, I am not NCR, but neither is he anymore. But tell, you don't look like Legion." Wez smirked.

"You men why am I not trying to crucify you, or hack you to death with a machete? I'm just a merc for the Legion. Caesar pays good."

"Why not work for the NCR then? They would pay well for a man like you." Wez, his former mirth gone, glared at Charlie.

"You have no idea how right you are, tribal. They would pay a great deal to have a man like me. In front of a firing squad." With all the quickness of a desert snake, the mohawked man delivered a right hook into Boone's jaw, knocking the beret off his head. A follow up kick to Charlie's gut knocked the courier down. Before either could recover Wez had his shotgun pointed at both of them. Raquel just looked shocked.

"Woman, take their weapons and and lock them up someplace."

"But -."

"Shut up, bitch! If you still want my help then you'll do as I fucking say! Or so help me God I'll kill everybody in this fucking place and then I'll burn it to the ground and piss on the ashes!" The woman seemed almost frightened by the man's outburst, even though she had the bigger weapon, and if she disarmed him then she would have backup from the other two. But in the end she just nodded, and motioned for the two captives to walk. Charlie looked over at Boone. A large red welt was growing on his jaw, and Charlie would probably have a boot print on his stomach for a week.

"Now what?"

"It was your idea to come here." Behind them, Wez was picking up Boone's 1st Recon beret. He twirled it in his hands, before placing it in his belt pouch. Maybe the old man would know where to get spare parts.

000000

Bruce and Paladin Ramos stood before a small raised dais, were a white haired man sat behind a desk not unlike an Overseer's desk in a Vault. Avery, and a much healthier looking Arthur stood next to large map of the Mojave area on the wall. The Elder was looking at Bruce, almost _glaring _at him.

"Greetings, Elder McNamara. I am Paladin-Colonel Williams, of the United States of DC. We've come to your aid." The white haired man continued to glare at him.

"Of course you did. We heard your radio call to DC. You're going to call attention to us, and the NCR is going to wipe us out." Bruce chuckled a little.

"Elder, the NCR is much to busy trying to win a war with something called the Legion. From what Veronica has told me they are streched way to thin to be able to hunt us at the same time." He noticed the Elder visably relaxed as he had exlpained it.

"You might be right. And it would be nice to return to our former glory. Hardin!" Out of a small side chamber came a man in power armor, T-51b if Bruce wasn't mistaken. The man had his receding hair in a combover, looking like a Pre-War business man.

"Yes Elder?"

"Give our young friend here that suit of power armor I keep in my quarters. He will need it more than I." The Paladin motioned for Bruce to follow him. He led bruce into a small room, a suit of T-45d laid out on the table. The Paladin left without saying a word, leaving Bruce alone. He wasn't much for wearing power armor, as it restricted his movements in combat, but he wasn't going to refuse a gift like this. He quickly stripped off his outer clothes, laying them on a chair, and began pulling on the power armor. Soon he was fully clad, except for the helmet, which hung on his belt. He walked back out to the main chamber.

"Thank you for this gift, Elder. Is there anything you need help with around here?"

"As a matter of fact there is. Go speak with Senior Knight Lorenzo, in the workshop. Tell him I sent you." Bruce nodded, and motioned for Avery and Arthur to follow.

000000

_Ok, that's that. What did you think? Wez met the Courier and Boone, and Bruce met the Mojave Brotherhood. Now, I still don't know if I wanna do the DLCs or not yet, so I want you all to tell me. Any other pointers would be appreciated. Thank you all, and don't forget to comment._


End file.
